absolute silent pandemonium
by another moment gone
Summary: Three-shot. "What's your view on love, Miss Block?" The brunette glanced up with stern solid amber eyes, "It doesn't exist." She firmly stated. A bus ride can change any thing though. A love-story for the hopeless romantics. *R&R* -another moment gone-
1. don't panic

absolute silent pandemonium

_don't panic -coldplay _

* * *

"Mind if I sit next to you?" He said with that brilliantly bright smile he always cockily flaunted.

She didn't spare him a glance though, choosing instead to continue reading the _People_ magazine in front of her, eyes flitting left to right.

"Okay then…" He drawled, taking a seat next to this brunette. He crossed his legs and whipped out his phone, reading the text with silence.

**Plz give me a 2****nd**** chance –C **

He rolled his eyes while sighing impatiently, typing a response immediately.

**No. im srry**

The brunette on his left snorted quietly. He whipped his head to stare in curiosity. "What?"

She finally lifted her head after a pregnant pause. Her eyes were a shocking shade of…amber? They just pierced him, he felt like he was a bug under the microscope—which was the way _he _was supposed to make other people feel; not the other way around. She uncrossed her long legs and said nothing.

"A breakup is funny to you?" He asked with wide-doe-like eyes, a hint of a smile blooming on his tan face. She rolled her bullet eyes, a thin line tracing her lips.

He couldn't stop staring.

"Just another player," she muttered, rolling those daggers. He scoffed but a proud smile was intact.

"That obvious?"

She nodded again, her eyes resting on the magazine once again, not giving him the satisfaction of her attention. Her heart was racing a little too fast, his blond hair was tousled in a _just got out of bed_ wildness, his brown eyes were the brownest shade of brown she'd ever seen but they were framed with coal black thick lashes (she was jealous), and that damn cocky half smirk was irritating her beyond repair.

His smirk deepened, "You wouldn't understand," he said with sarcasm dripping. "At least _I _have experience with relationships."

He'd never seen amber harden the way they did, her fine line of lips turning even thinner. She looked pissed, but he's never seen anything so intimidatingly attractive.

Hot.

"You're so pig-headed," she stated, looking out the bus window again. They passed by apartments and the obvious of sorts.

"Why thank you." He was the least bit bothered by this feisty unfriendly brunette. "But," he began, "you don't even know me. So therefor, you're judging is a moot point."

She arched an eyebrow. "What makes it moot?"

"Well for starters, you don't know me. You met me basically two minutes ago and when that happened, your heart raced and your cheeks heated up. Second of all, you won't get to know me considering my stop is the one after this one. And third… you're so predictable."

She wasn't fazed though, her eyes locked with his and he felt paralyzed under her watchful intent gaze. "Me? Predictable?"

He nodded with a sunny smile placating his face, once again. He smiled too much, she thought with annoyance.

"Yep." His smile grew, if possible.

She cocked another eyebrow, her eyes meeting those browns once again. "I can be spontaneous." She noted, as well as winced, the stubborn child-like tone quality her voice dawned.

"I doubt that," he admitted, biting his bottom lip; he reminded her of her old golden retriever, Smash. Although, Smash wasn't a pigheaded asshole.

"I can." She insisted, sitting up, and barely noticing the fact that his stop was less than a minute away.

"Oh, can you?"

She nodded eagerly, animation lighting up her face. "Like this."

She leaned over and smacked her glossed lips to his slightly chapped ones. Shock flowed through his body and sparks—_fucking sparks—_shocked his lips when hers touched his. She must've felt it too because she jumped back, almost falling off her seat, in surprise. But the surprise that lit up her face quickly disappeared and was hurriedly masked with a perfect smirk.

"I kissed a stranger," she said with pride echoing in her voice, "I am spontaneous."

He silently thanked god for choosing to take bus #16 to school today.

The bus came to a slow stop.

"Nice meeting you," she nodded him off, her eyes back on the magazine again. A quick careless dismissal. He smiled to himself, pleased with the fact that he managed to let his phone drop out of his pocket onto his seat.

"Bye." He made his way down the aisle, lips still tingling, and paid the driver. He stepped down the stairs and began walking down the street. The bus howled as it began to move again but came to an immediate halt when he took about eight steps.

He didn't turn around, just wore a huge grin on his freckle-free face. Hands in his coat pocket, he listened.

"Come back here, pighead." She shouted, speed-walking towards his stoic body.

"Pighead?" He asked a shocked, hurt look on his face. She snorted.

"Here's your phone, Cinderella," she hurriedly handed him his phone while glancing back to make sure the bus hadn't departed.

But it was already speeding away.

"Shit." She cursed, her face dropping in annoyance. He took one look at her and laughed.

"Screw you." She growled in a un-lady-like manner.

"You wish you could," he cockily replied.

She stomped her foot and he almost died with laughter.

"On the bright side, at least you got the best kiss of your life today." He said lightly, watching her stare at the retreating bus.

"I hate you."

"No, you love me," he chortled, watching her as she picked out her phone to speed-dial.

"—Claire? Can you pick me up? I'm stuck with this asshole," she hissed into the microphone. "Yes…okay…fine…bye."

"Princess' can't find a carriage to take her back to the castle?" He asked while batting his eyelashes. Despite the circumstances and the fact that she wanted to sock the guy, she let out a slight hint of a smile.

"Last time I checked you were the princess." She retorted quickly, "Which by the way was _not_ an accident."

Smart girl.

His sides hurt from laughter. She just groaned in frustration again. "I'm late for class."

She quickly began to walk in the other direction.

"Wait," he called. "What's your name?"

She didn't reply instead just strode forward.

"Wait, Miss I'm-spontaneous," he ran after her. "What's your name?"

"Look pighead," she sighed, a giggle emitting as she used his nick-name, "all you need to know about me is that I am not someone you want to waste time on. Okay? The kiss was for fun, nothing else." With that, she solidly strutted away.

**Fine. –C**

*R&R*

A three-shot…yay?

Or nay?

-another moment gone-


	2. i'm fifteen for a moment

absolute silent pandemonium

_100 years –five for fighting_

* * *

"Love," Professor Adams posed. He let his statement hang in the air for all of the students to ponder.

"Miss Block, what's your view on love?" He asked, carefully watching her confident expression.

"It doesn't exist, Sir." She replied sternly while tapping her pen.

"Are you sure about that?" He countered, still watching her face for any emotions other than surety.

"Yes, Sir,"

"—Coral, what do you think?"

The brunette sighed, feeling the strong urge to roll her eyes. She was late to class thanks to Mr. Pighead and she had to write an essay giving the reasons why a college student as 'responsible' as herself should not be tardy.

Damn him to hell.

* * *

A brunette giggled and he had the strong urge to cover his ears. This girl would not stop laughing loudly with her obnoxiously annoying nasally voice.

The amber eyed girl had a nice laugh, though it was not a ringing bell sound, but it wasn't bad either; just nice…pleasant.

What is this girl's name?

She's such a stranger; he doesn't even know her first name. He's such a creeper. All he knows is that she had brown hair with long curls and freaky amber eyes that are somewhat cool yet somewhat intimidating. Oh, and she's a spontaneously good kisser, (Though he would never admit that to her if he met her again.)

* * *

She felt ridiculously childish for thinking about some boy. She's twenty, young, beautiful, confident, and successful—why in the world would she be wasting her time pondering about some stranger with blond hair, brown eyes and whom she shared one _stinkin'_ kiss with.

"Hello, _Massie_." Her friend Claire called.

"Oh! Sorry."

"Where have you been these past few days? I feel like you're never actually _listening_ to me." The blonde whined, a curious smile elating. "Are you thinking about somebody? Because I read in _Seventeen_ that Valentine's Day is when you usually think about your exes or encounters with someone that was special and—"

"Claire…It's nothing. Chill," The brunette interrupted with a smile.

"I think you're thinking about someone," The blonde confidently admitted. "I'll figure out who exactly though."

Massie grinned, "Good luck with that one…" _I don't even know why I'm thinking about him_.

"Mass," she begun, "You know you can trust me, right?"

Massie rolled her eyes, "Of course Claire."

"Then why won't you tell me who you're thinking about!" She begged.

Massie took a sip of her coffee, relishing the taste. "Because it's no one,"

"I don't believe you." The blue-eyed girl slammed her hand on the table, "Is he attractive?"

"Claire it's no one!"

"I bet he has beautiful blue eyes,"

"Claire…"

"Oh!" The blonde excitedly bounced in her seat, "I bet he has brown hair."

"—Blond," Massie replied without thought.

"Got you," Claire jumped up from her seat, ignoring the looks she got. "There _is _someone."

Massie groaned, "It won't ever happen, Claire. I don't even know him. He's a complete and utter stranger. Plus, he's a cocky pig headed weirdo."

Claire's smile grew, "You like him."

"What, Claire?" She asked incredulously.

"You like him." The blonde repeated.

"I don't know him," Massie insisted.

"So? You can like any stranger you meet on the road. It doesn't make a difference."

"Changing the subject now…" Massie sipped again, glancing around the café. "Oh look, is that Cam Fisher?"

Claire's big blue eyes darted around the room with alarm, "Where?"

"There." Massie pointed, breathing a sigh of relief when her blonde friend began ranting about how she didn't know what to get her boyfriend of three months.

"It has to be a perfect gift, Mass."

"Nothing's perfect, Claire," Massie replied knowledgably.

Claire shook her head, swallowing her chi drink, "That's not true," she said, "Things are perfect in their own way."

Massie scoffed, looking around the café once again.

* * *

"Dude I can't get her off my mind," he exclaimed, rubbing his temples soothingly.

Alicia Rivera smiled, "You like her a lot, huh?"

The blond shook his head rapidly towards his sister, "No…I don't. She's just—different, in like, a way I don't know how to explain. She's just…"

His sister chuckled, "You're naïve."

"Don't I know it," he agreed hastily, tossing a soccer ball up towards the ceiling of his room.

"Did you try looking for her?"

"No," he sighed impatiently, "I doubt that would ever work, Leesh."

The raven-haired beauty shrugged indifferently, "Maybe or maybe not."

He thought for a moment. She had a really funny sense of humor, and she had pretty eyes, and she had a nice smile, which she didn't seem to do a lot at first. He liked her dry humor and the way she didn't fall under his gaze right away, and that she made things a game. He liked their banter.

He barely knew her.

"I don't even know her name," he said.

"So? You remember what she looks like right?" Alicia questioned, flicking a piece of lint of her cardigan.

He thought again. She had those random amber irises, she was thin but not in an anorexic way, she had a yellow dress on; a short yellow dress and sandals.

She was perfectly intoxicating.

"Yeah, I remember." He admitted.

"Then start trying to look for her; I bet she's thinking of you too right now."

The thought of that brought weird tingles to his stomach; was that fluttering he felt in the pit of his stomach? Was he hungry?

"Hey Leesh, why do I feel this stupid fluttering sensation in my stomach?"

"You like her," She cooed then widened her doe-like eyes for a moment. "Wait, you _like _girls? I thought you just used them? Or played them?"

He chucked a pillow at her head as she swiftly dodged it.

"Hey don't get nasty with me, brother. I'm just pointing out facts. And this fact is: you like a stranger, you can't stop thinking about her, you have butterflies in your _tummy_," she crowed. "And you _actually_ like someone genuinely enough to respect them. Wow."

"Hop off," he grumbled into his pillow.

She laughed again and strode out.

* * *

*R&R*

-another moment gone-


	3. i'm in love with my own sins

absolute silent pandemonium

_america's suitehearts –fall out boy_

* * *

-:-

Things were becoming complicated. He searched everywhere for her, he searched the bus station, the bus stop; he even went and asked a bunch of random strangers if they've seen a girl like this one.

She was nowhere in sight though.

It's been weeks though and she was still on his mind on a daily basis. Weeks flaked into months though.

February 11, the following year, Plovert told Derrick that he knew someone that his cousin Cam Fisher, mentioned would go on a blind date.

The date was set for February 14th (Valentine's Day).

Derrick protested at first but relented when he realized he would _never_ see this mystery bus-kisser again.

He sat in the restaurant and tried to be patient. The candle was burning dangerously fast in front of him, the flickering flame flowing upwards.

"Hey," a girl's voice rung. He looked up; half-wishing it was this mystery girl in front of him. It wasn't.

Instead it was a Spanish beauty.

He stood up, pulled her chair out for her and tried not to look pouty like all little kids do when they're disappointed. His heart felt like it dropped.

The date was nice, fun even. But it was casual talk, no banter, and it was mostly her talking about her passion for dance. No fun banter, no nick-names like pighead.

Nothing.

He hugged her goodbye after paying the bill and headed to walk to the front of the restaurant where the door was, when he smashed right into someone.

"—I'm sorry," he stammered and looked down at the figure on the ground.

"_You_?"

"Me?" He questioned while he looked at the little blonde in front of him. He stuck a hand out and she haughtily ignored it, choosing instead to teeter her way to her feet.

* * *

-:-

* * *

Massie didn't forget about him, she just refused to tell Claire anything about him. The more she talked about him, the more she felt like she missed him.

How do you miss a _freaking_ stranger?

"What does he look like?" Claire begged.

Massie blushed and looked down at her feet. How could she possibly remember so many details about his appearance? She saw him _once_ and she could tell anyone, including Claire, every little detail on his damn face.

"_Mass_," Claire pressured.

"Okay fine!" Massie exclaimed, lifting her hands up in surrender. She glanced around the restaurant while her cheeks flamed.

"Blond," she began, picturing him perfectly in her head. "Tall, at least a foot taller than me…" She thought for another moment. "He's got blond hair that was messy at the time. He had a freckle on his neck," Claire giggled. Massie struggled for _non-creepy_ details. "He has the same skin color as me and, er, he's very attractive."

"Was he wearing a blazer?"

Massie thought for a moment, "Yeah."

"And shorts?"

The brunette gaped, "How'd you know?"

"Is that him?" She pointed to a blond making his way through the rows of tables.

Massie glanced, squinting at his face.

"Holy shit," the brunette breathed.

Claire growled and stood up to charge at the blond.

* * *

-:-

* * *

"What's your name, boy?" The blonde in front of me hissed.

He blanched, "Derrick Harrington."

She glared at him with an annoyed look placating her face. "Do you know that girl right there?" She pointed to a familiar brunette with her head in her hands, shaking back and forth.

"Is that…?"

"Massie Block," Claire mumbled, staring at his face intently.

He breathed out a breath he didn't even realize he had been holding. "Massie," he whispered to himself.

"Okay Romeo. Talk to her. I know you've been looking for each other," Claire admitted.

* * *

-:-

* * *

"Professor," she asked, a perfectly manicured hand raised.

"Yes, Miss Block," he answered, pausing his lecture to look at her. Everyone looked at her.

"I'd like to amend a statement I've spoken before," she replied sheepishly. He placed his glasses on his head and gave her his full attention.

"Which statement, Miss Block?"

"The concept of love,"

He nodded, "Do continue."

"I've never been a believer of love, or fate, or really just _love at first sight_ stuff," she began. "But I believe love can just 'spark' at the most random of times. Also that love can surprise you and literally knock you in the face. But it also takes time to really work. But what I'm trying to say is: I _do_ believe love exists now."

"What is the change of heart for?" He asked with an eyebrow cocked.

"Because," she struggled for words for a moment. "I guess I just hadn't found love when I answered that question before." She blushed, subtly looking at her phone.

**Forever & always?**

**-D**

She bit a laugh back.

**remember: Life's spontaneous. Like me.(:**

**but something like that, D.**

**-M**

* * *

-:-

Thank you for all of the reviews! You guys rock! Check out my other stories if you've got free-time!

Review?

-another moment gone-


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